Highlander's Melody
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: NYC, 1886. Hadder wasn't sure if she made the right choice when she married Angus Thompson, but thirteen years and seven children later, she's only sure that her life will never change. The story of Crutchy's childhood.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Newsies belongs to Disney, not me.

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_August, 1886_

Hadder stifled a grimace as the baby kicked against her belly. None of her other children had been this active. Not that she minded; the kicking reassured her that the baby was still alive within her. But she did wish that the baby would choose to kick at a time other than her husband's sermons.

Next to her, two-year-old Fiona shifted, her chubby legs waving as she tried to keep them from falling asleep. Hadder looked at her sternly, softening the look with a gentle pat on the child's knee. Fiona settled down.

Reverend Thompson finally ended his sermon, calling up the choir to sing the final hymn. Hadder stood slowly, looking down the row. All six of her children stood, the oldest boys- Thane, fourteen, and Harry, ten- holding the hymnals open for the younger ones. Hadder held her hymnal open for Fiona, pointing to the words as the congregation sang. Normally she enjoyed the singing, but today she just wanted to end the service and go home to rest her aching body.

The members of the congregation began to file out of the church. Hadder picked Fiona up and settled her on her hip. "Come on, my bairns," she said. "Thane, carry Ian, won't you?"

Hadder led her six children out of the pew and joined the throng headed towards the door. She could see her husband standing on the front steps, shaking hands with the parishioners. He stopped to talk for quite a while with one man. Hadder stepped quietly beside him, the children gathered around her.

"Ah, Mrs. Thompson," Angus said. "Mrs. Thompson, this is Richard Maxwell. Mr. Maxwell, my wife and our children."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Thompson," Maxwell said, taking her hand.

Hadder tried not to make a face. His hand was as limp as a dead fish's. "Likewise, Mr. Maxwell," she said. Her voice was still tinged with a Scottish brogue.

Angus lifted little Fiona out of her arms. "I've invited Mr. Maxwell for Sunday lunch," he announced.

"You will be most welcome in our home, Mr. Maxwell," Hadder said promptly. It didn't matter what she thought. It was her husband's house, not hers. She stifled the feelings rising in her heart and took Bonnie by the hand. All she could do was pray that her own little daughters would choose more wisely than she had.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Newsies belongs to Disney, not me.

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The summer heat was relentless. "Bonnie, darlin', put the biscuits on the table for Mr. Maxwell," Hadder said. The six-year-old was anxious to go outside and play, but she obediently picked up the basket of bread and toddled over to the table.

Hadder's back ached with the combined weight of the baby in her belly and the toddler on her hip. She poked halfheartedly at the salt pork on the skillet. Ever since she found out she was with child for the seventh time, food had just not seemed appetizing. It was just as well. The less food she ate, the more she could give her children.

"Maither, I'll hold the little one," Thane offered. At fourteen, he was her oldest child, and the one most like her. He was also the only one who had picked up any of his mother's brogue.

"Thank you, darlin'," Hadder said. "Go to your brother, Fi." Fiona nestled her head against Thane's shoulder and stuck her round fingers in her mouth.

Thane jostled his little sister up and down. "Shall I put her down for a nap?" he asked.

"Is it that time?" Hadder asked. She wiped her hands on her apron. "Goodness, yes. Put the poor wee thing down for a nap, and then wash up for dinner." Hadder fished the salt pork out of the skillet and onto an old platter with a faded platter. "Harry? Charlie? Fetch Bonnie and Ian and bring them in to eat."

The clatter of children echoed in the small manse. Their old Sunday shoes squeaked in protest. Usually the six of them would be barefoot right now, running through the tiny yard full of brown grass after eating their fill of bread and butter, but today was company dinner. Hadder hefted the plate and made the arduous journey to the dining room.

Her husband and his guest sat at the table, talking business. Reverend Thompson held his oldest daughter on his knees. Hadder could already tell that Bonnie would be just as pretty as her name implied, but at the moment the lively six-year-old was using every scrap of self-control in her little body to remain still on her father's lap.

"Bonnie," Hadder said. "Come down and sit with your brothers." Bonnie obeyed, sliding off Reverend Thompson's knees. Her pale green gingham dress was new to her, but it had been cut down from one of Hadder's old ones.

The four boys pushed and shoved their way into the dining room. Thane tried to control Charlie from knocking Ian, the youngest boy at four, onto the ground. Harry slipped into the seat beside Hadder. Pale and thin for his age, Harry was fonder of books than anything else. Hadder smiled at him. He had the look of one not long in this world.

"Ah, I see my wife has brought in the noon meal," Reverend Thompson said, turning away from his company. "Where's the youngest?"

"Fiona's sleeping, Father," Thane said.

"Yes, yes," he said, nodding his head. "Fold your hands for blessing." Hadder took her seat at the foot of the table and bowed her head. The prayer lasted a good amount of time. Harry sat quietly next to her, but on the other side Bonnie shifted her weight anxiously. Hadder placed a gentle hand on the top of her head, but the baby inside her was just as restless.

"Amen," Reverend Thompson intoned. Hadder lifted the platter and handed it to her husband. He took the largest piece and placed it on Mr. Maxwell's plate with a flourish, then took the next largest piece for himself. "Wife, Mr. Maxwell was telling me about his business. Absolutely fascinating, it is."

"What line of work are you in, Mr. Maxwell?" Hadder inquired.

"Mills, Mrs. Thompson, mills," he replied. He shoved a large forkful of pork in his mouth, drippings slid along his thick mustache. "Cotton mills."

"Mr. Maxwell is interested in recruiting workers from the parish orphanage," Reverend Thompson added.

Hadder's head shot up. "Workers?" she repeated. "They're only wanes…"

"Not the youngest ones, of course, of course," Mr. Maxwell said. "The older ones. Fourteen, and the like. Children are surprisingly hard workers."

Hadder looked down the line of soft brunet heads. "Aye, they are, but still, working in that environment-"

Reverend Thompson cleared his throat. "Mrs. Thompson, Mr. Maxwell has offered to place our own children with jobs at his respectable establishment," he said.

Hadder dropped her fork. "What-"

"Positions for Thane and Harry only," Reverend Thompson said. "The others are too young right now."

"Dad, I want to work with the older boys too!" Charlie exclaimed.

Reverend Thompson smiled. Hadder knew Charlie was his favorite. "Well, if Mr. Maxwell could use another hand…"

"That I could, my boy, that I could," Mr. Maxwell said. Charlie grinned cheekily and dug into his dinner.

"But I'll still need help around the manse…" Hadder tried.

"Already considered, wife," Reverend Thompson said. "We'll get a girl from the parish home to come. A good, sturdy girl of twelve or fourteen to help out around the house. More useful than the boys. Especially with the coming baby…"

Hadder stood. "Please excuse me, Mr. Maxwell, but I feel rather ill." She abruptly left the table and fled as quickly as she dared to the room she shared with her husband.

Fiona slept quietly in the crib by the window, cheeks rosy and her hair mussed from sleep. Hadder reached into the crib and stroked her cold fingers along Fiona's small fist. She stood there for quite a while, listening to the clink of silverware and the sound of men's chatter below. But even the baby in her belly was quiet, as though it could sense the solemnity of its mother's mind.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Newsies belongs to Disney, not me.

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"Don't cry, Maither," Thane whispered.

"I'm not going to cry, darlin'," Hadder said busily. She slathered butter over a thick piece of rye bread. "I just wish you were going off to school and not a factory, that's all."

Thane shifted from foot to foot under his mother's gaze. "We'll be studying after we get home, Maither," he said.

"All right, all right," she said. Hadder wrapped the rye bread in waxed paper and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "Take care of your brothers." She turned.

"Maither," Harry said softly. His wide brown eyes were desperate. "Maither, do I really have to go?"

Hadder hugged him tightly. He was the thinnest out of all her children, thin and fragile. "I wish you didn't have, darlin'," she said. "Come home as soon as the whistle blows, and I'll be waiting for you, all right?" Harry nodded.

Hadder reached to straighten Charlie's hair. He ducked away. "Come on, Momma, let me go!" he scowled.

"You be good at the mill, ye hear?" she said. "Listen to the foreman. Do what they tell you. And obey your brothers." Charlie shrugged off her hand and darted down the street.

Hadder watched her three sons walk away. Tall, strong shouldered Thane. Thin, shy Harry. Stubborn, scowling Charlie. Three of her children, gone off to work.

Bonnie tugged on Hadder's skirt. "Maither," she said. "Are they gonna come back?"

Hadder gripped Bonnie's shoulder in a tight hug. "Of course they'll come back. They're just going off to work. They'll be back this very night."

Bonnie's small piquant face was uncertain. "I don't like it," she said. "I want them to stay."

"Of course we want them to stay," Hadder said. "Of course…"

She felt little Ian on her other side, staring after his big brothers. "They come back tonight?" he asked.

"Back tonight," she repeated. She hoisted Ian on her hip. "They'll come back to play with you."

It was late when the three boys reached home. Reverend Thompson was in his study, researching for his next sermon. Hadder was sitting in the parlor, Ian and Bonnie playing at her feet with a toy Noah's Ark. Bonnie sat next to her, clumsily knitting.

"Maither? Maither, we're home," Thane called.

Hadder pushed herself out of her chair. "Come here, you three," she said. Her boys tumbled into the room. Harry collapsed on the floor by his mother's chair. "You must be tired to death."

"It's pretty bad," Thane said. He rubbed his tired arms. "They put Harry and Charlie to work on bobbins, and me in carting the loads."

Hadder rubbed her fingers through Harry's soft curly hair. "Are you hungry then?"

"Too tired to eat," Harry said hoarsely. "Can I go to bed, Mum?"

"Of course, darlin'," Hadder said. She kissed him softly, he tasted like dust and sweat.

"I see the boys are back," Reverend Thompson said. "Clean up, boys, you've another day of work ahead. Mrs. Thompson, tomorrow we'll go to the parish orphanage and pick out a nice orphan girl to help with the house."

"Aye, Reverend Thompson," Hadder said softly. She pressed her hand against Harry's cheek, and didn't meet his eyes.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Newsies belongs to Disney, not me.

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Hadder held tightly to Ian's hand. Bonnie walked a step behind, Fiona's small hand clutched in hers. "Stay with me, bairns," Hadder murmured.

The parish orphanage was a tall old brownstone building, five stories tall. Children of all shapes and sizes lined the rows of desks in the schoolroom, boys on the right and the girls on the left. A thin, wiry woman with a heavily lined stood at the front, reading aloud from a book of Shakespeare.

The matron led the Thompsons into the classroom. "Classes will be over shortly for the noon recess," she said. "You can look over the girls then."

Hadder stroked Bonnie's soft curls. The schoolmistress continued droning through Sonnet 116. The students under her gaze sat still, but Hadder herself felt like falling asleep under the teacher's drone.

The sonnet ended at long last and the schoolmistress rang the bell on her desk. The orphans stood up and filed out of the classroom. The first one to pass the door paused at the sight of the Thompsons. "Reverend," the boy gasped. Reverend Thompson nodded towards him. The other orphans bowed and curtsied as they passed by. Hadder watched the faces of the girls. Tall girls, short girls, freckle faced and smooth skinned, dark haired and blonde. Hadder sighed and stroked Bonnie's hair. Reverend Thompson turned to follow the orphans into the courtyard. Hadder walked slowly behind him, children in tow.

"Look around, Mrs. Thompson, and see which orphan you'd like to take," Reverend Thompson said.

Ian plucked at Hadder's sleeve. "Maither, can we go play?" he begged.

"Run and play," Hadder said. "Mind Fiona." The three children ran off.

"Like a seat?"

Hadder looked down into the thin face of an orphan girl. "If you don't mind," she said.

"I don't," the girl said. "I spend all day sitting."

"Thank you, darlin'," Hadder said. Her knees ached as she took a seat. "What's your name?"

"Jane," the girl said. "Jane Burns." She was a decidedly odd looking girl- thin and pale, but with very thick dark hair that hung in two long braids. The style looked too young for her.

"What happened to your parents, darlin'?" Hadder asked.

"A carriage accident," Jane said. Her eyes fixated on a point above Hadder's head. "Two years ago."

"I'm sorry," Hadder said.

Jane looked at her. "You don't have to be sorry," she said. Hadder looked down at her folded hands, resting on her swollen belly. "When is the child to be born?"

"The next month, Lord willing," Hadder said.

"Hoping for a girl or a boy?"

"Either, as long as it's healthy."

Jane ran the ends of her braids through her fingers. "I hope it's a girl," she said.

"And why is that, darlin'?" Hadder asked.

"I had a little sister," Jane said, and she clamped her lips shut.

Reverend Thompson strode over to his wife. "Mrs. Thompson, I've seen several suitable girls," he said. "Would you like to look over them?"

"I think I've chosen, Reverend," Hadder said. "This one. Jane Burns."

Jane looked up at the preacher and curtsied. "Afternoon, Reverend Thompson," she said.

"Mrs. Thompson, are you quite sure?" Reverend Thompson said.

"Quite," Hadder answered. She struggled to her feet. "I want Jane to come and stay with us."

Reverend Thompson looked grave. "Well, if you are sure, Mrs. Thompson. I'll draw up the papers with the matron," he said. He turned round and walked towards the front offices of the parish school.

"Thank you, Mrs. Thompson," Jane said.

Hadder leaned close. "I hope it's a little girl too," she said.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit fictionpress(DOT)com/celizabethnicholas for more.


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